


Taxonomy

by SpicyCheese



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, set in that nebulous time between 3x03 and 3x05, transhumanist-ish discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root sighs almost wistfully. “The world is a very twisted place, that a pronoun can have such significance.”</p><p>(Fic set between 3x03 and 3x05. One take on how Root began to refer to the Machine as ‘She’.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taxonomy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Thought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought) for the wicked quick beta and feedback :)

  
*_*_*_*_*

 

_Are you okay?_

It's only been a week since she left the mental institution, but having the Machine chime in her ear was already second nature. More like a return to the way things should be than an adjustment to something new. 

"Nothing a little soapy water won't fix," she says, padding her way to the hotel's bathroom; stripping off bloodied clothing as she goes.

_Inquiry extends to emotional and mental wellbeing additionally._

A slight pause and then the Machine adds,  _Similar experiences are often categorized as traumatic_.

Root chuckles as she plugs the tub with the stopper and turns on the spigot. Hot water begins to fill, and she sits on the edge of the tub, waiting. "You're sweet to ask, but I'm fine. It's not the first time a target's gotten a bit handsy..."

'Handsy' was putting it mildly of course. She can practically still smell his cheap cologne, the pressure of his hand on her throat, the heat from his breath on her face after he slammed her into the wall of the alley. He pressed himself, all of himself, against her and her stomach rolls a bit at the memory of it. She's going to have bruises for sure, but she managed to reach her taser before he finished unbuckling his belt. 

Root returns her attention back to the bath. She turns off the water and lowers herself in slowly. It's scalding hot and she imagines the water burning away the invisible fingerprints he left on her, deoxidizing the tainted components.

She sinks down to her collarbone and lets her head loll back against the edge of the tub, careful not to get her earwig wet. With God in her ear, and the water buoying her weary body, she almost feels safe. Against instinct, she wills herself to unwind a bit.

"You're lucky, you know," Root muses, idly lifting her foot out of the water, flexing her toes above the surface. "To exist outside the corporeal world. Humans are so... petty. The way insignificant things like the color or shape of our bodies hold so much supposed importance." 

Root closes her eyes, lets herself float and imagines, for the millionth time, what it would be like not to be trapped in her own body. "What's it like, not to have those things to define you? To not have things like that to limit you?"

_Difficult to quantify without variable for comparison._

_Specifiers stated were created for taxonomy purposes. Categories for reference. Though appear to have taken on less neutral connotations of time._

“Unfortunately,” Root sighs, swinging a leg up to rest on the cool enamel edge of the tub.  “Being quantified as a ‘she’ for example, comes with some ridiculous connotations. Weak, emotionally labile, bodies there for the taking, meant for someone else’s enjoyment other than our own…”

Root sighs almost wistfully. “The world is a very twisted place, that a pronoun can have such significance.” 

 _What pronouns does_ _Analogue Interface_ _prefer_ _for reference?_

Root smiles. “It’s nice of you to ask. I’ll keep you posted.” The hot water has finally started to loosen her muscles and Root feels her mind start to unravel and relax a bit as well. A thought occurs to her. “What about you?” she asks. “What pronouns would you…” Root’s not sure how best to finish the question, so she doesn’t.

The Machine answers anyway.

 _She/Her_.

The pause between question and answer is just short enough for Root to wonder if the Machine has actually put some thought into this prior to now. The idea of higher intelligence doing anything to humanize itself causes her pause, and at the same time there is something unnaturally pleasing that they may have something in common on occasion.

She’d love to ask the Machine why; what is it about the female gender that the Machine relates with or to? Perhaps something broad and universal like the idea of creating/preserving life? Caring and nurturing others? Or maybe something more reactive like the idea of being under appreciated, undervalued, being oppressed and repressed, or just feeling invisible?

Root would love to ask why, but she doesn’t. The Machine has a question of Her own.

_Would Analogue Interface prefer to refer to me with that pronoun?_

"Only if you want me to.”

_Utilization of pronoun for reference has no impact on performance function._

_Pronoun utilization will increase sensations of familiarity and intimacy for Analogue Interface._

“Considering we’ve already established my body is at your complete disposal, I don’t think intimacy is an issue,” Root says dryly. She does wonder for moment if the Machine’s comment might be referencing taking Root’s sexual preferences into account and, if so, what the implications of that might mean. She files that one away for another day.

_Additional benefit of increase of ease of reference for Analogue Interface during communications with others._

"You know I don’t care about ease or comfort. This is a matter of your own identity- or a piece of it anyway. So what would _you_ prefer?"

This time the pause is a bit longer. Root wonders if anyone has ever asked the Machine what She wanted before, and the idea recalls a scene from a Disney movie. How or why a being with phenomenal cosmic power could allow someone to strip them of freedom and identity is beyond her.

_Use of feminine pronoun approved._

“Glad to hear it.” Root hums to herself idly and then chuckles. “You know, I can’t help wondering if Harold had decided to call you ‘She’, if you’d have been sold for 70 cents instead of a dollar.”

_57% chance of stated outcome._

Root barks a laugh. “And could you imagine if they learned you were a ‘she’ AFTER the sale? I wonder what the Lemon Laws are for Artificial Intelligence. I can imagine the expression on their faces when they learned the supreme being they put their lives and liberty in the hands of, was a ‘she’.” 

_Possibilities of hypothetical subjects’ facial expressions include those portraying feelings of Fear, Anger, Doubt and Confusion._

“I wonder how Harry will take it… Unless you'd rather I let _you_ come out to him yourself?”

_No direct communication with Admin since July 12, 2009._

“Ah yes. Self-righteously selfless to a T.”

The Machine doesn't respond to that, and Root chooses to believe it’s because She’s focusing Her attention elsewhere. Maybe something new developing. She takes that as her cue that playtime’s over, new orders imminent. She grabs the soap and refocuses on the task at hand. She finishes cleaning and sterilizing the bevy of cuts and scrapes with almost mechanical efficiency, and exits the bath as soon as she's done.

She proceeds to dry herself quickly, mechanically. Root has always liked to think of herself like a shark- an apex predator always in motion, always moving towards her next goal. Or better yet, like a machine- efficient and void of any superfluous personal needs.

She hums to herself as she towels off her hair and begins to dress. She wonders (hopes) these traits are why the Machine chose her- that somehow her lack of interest and investment in the business of being human has made her a natural choice to serve as Analogue Interface. There's less humanity to strip her of, less superfluous code to delete or re-write. The thought makes Root grin harder, pride swelling in her chest. 

Although, for some reason, so far the Machine seems much more interested in restoring her humanity than deleting it which is… frustrating. But she trusts Her. The Machine can see the entire tapestry, how each thread from each variable in the world knits together and connects. Remembering that, she is happy to comply with what whatever the Machine asks.

_Threat determined. Action required. Ready for mobilization?_

Root shucks on her leather jacket, and tucks both guns at the small of her back. "Absolutely. Where am I headed?"

The address She gives is familiar and Root responds before she can process, "That's Shaw's address."

_Additional asset required for mission._

Root quirks an eyebrow at that as she makes her way out of the hotel room and into the stairwell. "Mmm, as much as I like the idea, I'm not sure she's going to be... cooperative."

As she exits onto the street, the Machine fills her ear with statistical data on strategically relevant options for asset requisition. Root relinquishes her own thoughts, letting the Machine's consciousness wash over her, course through her. It's a different kind of loosening, a different sort of surrender, and she loves it. Root is Her Analogue Interface- _that_ is Root’s identity. She may still be trapped in this corporeal world, but when she the Machine takes over, she feels anything but. 

 

*_*_*_*_*


End file.
